Red Shirts and Kurosawa
by LaFemmeQuiRit
Summary: Myka and Pete weren't really sure that they liked each other...but they were figuring things out as they went along.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I'm not nearly creative enough to own these characters.

ONE – Name Your Captain

"So." Myka saw Pete glancing at her in interest from the corner of her eye. "Star Trek fan, huh?"

"I never said that." She felt her fingers involuntarily tense on the steering wheel in front of her and forced herself to relax. As of yet, she couldn't quite pin down why Pete's desire to make small talk irked her, but she did know that he picked up on it when she did. She had promised herself that, even if the irritation didn't cease, her outward reactions to it would.

"Well, you picked up the 'red shirt' comment with ease. I figured only a Star Trek fan would pick up on that." He mock sighed and she saw the annoying sly grin on his face – her fingers tightened again slightly, the knuckles turning white. "You can't hide these things from me, Myka."

"I may have seen a few of the movies." She gritted through her teeth.

"Ha!" Pete's finger was suddenly out, accusing, shaking in her direction. That sly grin had become a full-on smirk and she made no attempt to hide the tension in her fingers now. "Now I know you're lying, because the 'red shirt' concept stemmed from the television SHOWS and not the movies."

"It's a part of pop culture, Pete, everyone knows about red shirts." She rolled her eyes and turned the wheel left as they approached Leena's. "You don't have to be a fan of Star Trek to know that one."

"Oh, well." He leaned back in what she knew was a practiced fake-out and waited for him to pounce. Pete Lattimer always had to pounce. "I was hoping to debate who your favorite Star Trek Captain was, but since you haven't seen all of them, you're just going to have to take my word that it was Captain Kirk."

"WHAT?!" Despite the profound promise made to herself only moments before not to engage in the ridiculous conversation that she just knew was brewing inside of him, the words were spewing out of her. "How can you say that? The man whored his way around the Galaxy."

"I knew it! I KNEW IT!" Pete was crowing now, the laughter reverberating around the cab of the SUV, the smile on his face wide. "You are a fan."

"Only an idiot would choose Kirk." She ground her teeth silently and wondered if her partnership with Pete would lead to serious dental work in the future.

"Because he had that certain _je ne sais quoi_. He was like a cowboy out among the stars, living it up, embracing the adventure." His face had taken on that small boy appeal, eyes staring somewhere other than the view in front of him. She was sure at some point that Pete had wanted to _be_ the Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise.

"Embracing anything with breasts."

"Okay, so maybe he wasn't the most discerning when it came to playmates, but the other Captains were so _BORING_. All they ever did was follow the rules."

"Maybe that's because they were more intelligent. It takes brains to make things happen while following rules. How many times did Kirk get demoted?"

"Then who is your favorite?" He had turned fully in the seat to look at her. "You must be dying to set me straight by now."

"This conversation is ridiculous." The SUV slid into the driveway in front of the Bed & Breakfast and she cut the engine.

"No, it's not. A person's favorite Star Trek Captain can tell you a lot about someone's personality." He eyed her speculatively. "You loved Picard, didn't you?"

She could feel her lips pursing together and the vein in her forehead actually begin to throb when he crowed in victory.

"I knew it. Of course, you would love him. Mr. By-the-Book." Pete unbuckled his seat belt and was out the door, her own hand pausing on the handle as she took a deep breath and counted to five. _I will not shoot my partner. I will not shoot my partner._

"So the fact that your Captain was a whore reflects a lot on your personality?" Myka couldn't help but retort as she pulled suitcases out of the SUV.

"Eh." Pete shrugged. "Never said I didn't like the ladies. I'd like to think I have standards that are a little bit higher." He strung out the word little and held two of his fingers up to signify how little. "I don't know if I could handle a chick with green skin or something."

"Don't sell yourself short." She slammed the back door shut and was up and moving toward her bedroom before he responded.

******

At two in the morning she was still trying to sleep, unsuccessfully. And now the reason keeping her awake was a strange succession of noises coming from the general direction of Pete's room. Sighing, she stepped into her slippers and a heavy bathrobe, moving across the creaky wooden floor of the hallway and knocking. The noises paused and there was shuffling before Pete opened the door, sweatpants and a clearly hastily donned t-shirt hanging off of him.

"What's up?"

"What are you doing in here? I can hear it across the hall." She frowned, although she knew he would say that was just how her face looked normally.

"Um." He actually looked a little embarrassed, but shrugged and held up his other hand. The DVD box for Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan stared back at her. "Watching a movie."

"You're kidding me. You brought that with you from DC?"

"Nah. I picked it up at Best Buy when we stopped for lunch in DC. It was two doors down from us." He shrugged again. "Guess I just had the urge."

"Well." She glanced away in discomfort before looking back at him. "Just keep it down, please?"

"Do you…uh…do you want to watch it with me?" He half-grinned at her in what she figured he thought was an inviting manner. And the truth was, she did want to.

"Well…it is the best of the movies with the original cast." She moved forward slightly and that was all it took for him to pull back and let her in.

His laptop was on the bedside table and she crawled up, Pete settling comfortable next to her against the bedspread. He leaned back and a sudden childlike impulse had her on her stomach, her feet up and swinging in the air. Pete grinned at her and she couldn't really stop the answering grin that sprung unbidden to her face as he restarted the movie. Sometimes she thought Pete Lattimer was alright.


	2. Kurosawa

Disclaimer: See Chapter One, please.

TWO – Kurosawa

Myka had decided within the first two days of being partnered with Pete Lattimer that there were going to be times when his behavior would make zero sense to her. Scientifically speaking, his "vibes" were ludicrous, although she acknowledged that he believed in them wholeheartedly. His propensity for strange voices and impressions like Kermit the Frog at random times were unnecessary and distracting from the business at hand. But what mostly threw her off was when she walked into a room and found him doing something completely unexpected and ridiculous, only to have him greet her as if everything was normal.

That was exactly what he was doing when she walked into the sitting room of the Bed & Breakfast to see him launching himself off of the couch with a strange yell and hand movements that could only be described as "martial arts" by someone with a broad sense of humor.

"What are you doing?" Despite her personal mantra to not even bother asking, her innate curiosity made it impossible not to do just that.

"Hey, Myka." He grinned at her and walked toward her, chest heaving. Her eyes narrowed, and she wondered how much furniture jumping had been going on in the past few minutes to actually draw him near to out-of-breath. "Just having some fun."

"I'm sure that Leena would not appreciate you jumping on her furniture."

"Nah. She caught me doing it once before and didn't say anything. Besides, I only did it that one time in this room. You walked in on the finale." His grin was broad, showing all of his teeth.

"Finale of what?" She rolled her eyes. "Were you doing what I think you were doing?"

"Depends on what you think I was doing." He picked up a glass of lemonade that Leena had obviously set out for him. There were cookies. Of course, there were cookies. _Those cookies are going to make him fat._

"You know exactly what I think you were doing." She shook her hands in an exaggerated "judo chop" motion. "That silly kung fu stuff like you were doing with the samurai sword a few days ago."

"First of all, you're getting your Asian fighting techniques mixed up." He actually looked offended at that and she felt her teeth begin to grind a little. "Kung fu is from China. Samurai swords are from Japan."

"And I suppose your furniture martial arts are far more respectful of Asian culture?" Her lips pursed at him. "What do you call it? Ottoman Karate?"

He actually laughed at that. "You just need to loosen up and enjoy your down-time between missions." He grabbed her hands unexpectedly and she forced herself to not try and react violently. "I bet if you tried it, you'd have fun."

"I don't think so." Her wrists ached a little, but she pulled back away from him in an effort to escape what she knew what was coming.

In her mind she had begun to label it "Pete's Mandatory Fun Time" or PMFT, for short. Every once in a while it occurred – like the time last week when he put on a recording of the song "Footloose" in Artie's office and dragged her around the room with him, sock-clad feet sliding across the floor. She refused to admit that she'd had a smile on her face by the end of the song.

"What's the matter?" The sly grin was coming, and even though she knew what he was going to say, she still couldn't stop her natural reaction. "Scared?"

"No." Her response whipped out too quickly, and she saw his grin widen even further.

"Alrighty, then." He pulled her unwillingly into the middle of the room, where she realized he had pushed some of the furniture out of the way. This was obviously a well thought-out plan. Her eyes narrowed as she wondered if this PMFT session had been thought out in advance and if she had walked into a trap.

"Stop looking at me like I planned this." His back was turned to her, fixing a rolled-up carpet, so she didn't try to hide the way her eyebrows shot up at his accurate remark.

"Okay, so you've seen all those old Asian martial arts films where they are really badly dubbed." It was a statement, not a question.

"Uh…no." Myka Berring didn't like to lie, but maybe it would end this torture early.

"Um…okay." She should have known that wouldn't stop Pete or PMFT. "So here's the deal. When I was a kid, my friends and I used to watch these movies and then act them out with these ridiculous 'dubbed' lines and over-exaggerated martial arts moves."

"But you don't actually know martial arts." Her eyebrow went up. "So really you're just looking like an idiot."

"That's the _POINT_, Myka." He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, as if explaining things to her were impossible. She felt her eyes narrow. "You're supposed to feel like a kid again. Act like a kid. Just let it all hang out. Watch."

He climbed back up on the couch, his stockinged feet gripping the upholstery. He assumed a karate-like pose, his mouth moving in an exaggerated manner. "I will fight for my family's honor!" And he went jumping off the couch again, his left leg in an exaggerated kick, his hands flailing and a strange yell coming out of his mouth. She was right - he did look like an idiot.

"Okay, now you try." He was smiling at her, and she sighed. PMFT never stopped until she went through with it at least once. "I promise you'll enjoy it."

"Fine." She toed her sneakers off and stood up on the couch. _I do it one time, make it obvious I hate it, and he'll let me go._

"You will fight or die." Pete was yelling at her and her head jerked up. He was posing again, his exaggerated movements obviously meant to "intimidate." The words sprung to her lips before she could stop herself.

"Only one will die here today." She clenched her fists tighter. "And it will not be I." She was yelling now, her legs flailing as she jumped off the couch and he was moving toward her in a mock fighting position. Before she knew it, they were sparring in an over-the-top manner, strange yells emitting from both of them.

"You will pay for your treachery!" She could feel her skin flush as she was moving, the intense expression on his face matched by her own.

"You will die like the dog you are!" He was coming at her slowly, his movements exaggerated, and she responded in kind. Her left leg sprung up on the seat of a wooden chair and before she knew it, she was flying toward the couch, landing on the soft cushion and bouncing. Pete launched himself up onto the cushion beside her.

"Ah-hem." The abrupt sound of another person entering into their imaginary realm halted the game abruptly. Leena was observing them from the doorway, one eyebrow higher than the other.

Myka was dismayed to realize that her chest was heaving, just like Pete's and she was clearly clambering on furniture. "Uh…"

"Just make sure you put the cushions back, please." Leena was gone before Myka's gaze returned to the doorway.

********

For once, she had gotten a good night's sleep. Pete would probably make some ridiculous comment that their "martial arts" showdown the day before had worn her out. She rolled her eyes even though there was no one there to see it.

Feet sliding into her comfortable slippers, she moved toward the door, anticipating breakfast, opening the door – only to halt as her eyes rested on a small package in front of her. It was wrapped in the Sunday comics. Her eyes glanced at Pete – that was such a 'guy' thing to do.

Door closing behind her, she slid a fingernail under the edge of the package and carefully removed the wrapping. A copy of Akira Kurosawa's "Seven Samurai" spilled into her hands, and a note taped to the front of the DVD from Pete.

_Study up. You'll need better moves if you're going to take me down next time._

If he thought he was winning the next show-down, he had another thing coming.


End file.
